Living in Israel, I
rarely drink. It’s not really part of
the culture, so other than a glass of wine on Friday evenings, I don’t usually
indulge. Except for once in a while when
I’m stressed or achy-tired and I feel the need for something a bit stronger
than vino. Then I typically pick scotch, which I learned how to drink from my
dad, may he rest in peace.
The House of Wine
next door went out of business recently and reopened its doors last week to
sell off its stock, so I went to see what could be had. Mind you, it’s lucky I don’t drink much
because the prices of distilled liquor in Israel are mind-blowing. Would you pay $100 for a perfectly ordinary
bottle of scotch? Anyway, there on the
shelf was a relatively affordable bottle of Wild Turkey Kentucky bourbon. I’d never tried bourbon and I thought this
might be my chance. So I bought it and
put it on the shelf next to that bottle of gin I’ve had since the ‘90’s – gin
doesn’t spoil, does it?
As it happens, last
week we also switched our telephones en masse, the way everything is done in the
kibbutz. I junked my Samsung phone that
never worked properly for an older version of iPhone that wouldn’t detonate the
budget and I naively thought I would be better off. If only I had known the pain and suffering I
was l inviting onto my head! It took me
2 hours – 2 hours! – to find where to correct the time which was set to
Cupertino, California. Nothing about
this phone is intuitive. And Apple,
being Apple, does not deign to explain the mysteries of its software. It took me another 2 days to find how to
change the display language to blessed English and download a ringtone.
Now here’s the
really irritating thing about Apple:
even their online support is useless.
It’s just about impossible to find an answer to the question you’re
actually asking. The search feature barely
relates to the terms you entered and online chat does not exist in their
rarefied world, all of which makes me long for the genuinely helpful universe
of Microsoft. I love you, Bill Gates!
In the depths of my
distress amid concerns for what this was doing to my blood pressure, I thought,
I really need a drink. Then I thought of
the bourbon. This was as good a time as
any to give it a try. Of course it was
instantly relaxing and soothing and I have to tell you – it’s really good with
a lovely flavor of malted grain. Who
knew? I think I like it even better than
scotch. But, please, don’t tell my dad.
